


Old Mess, New Mess, Messing Around

by Sira, ufp13



Category: Sneakers (1992)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-03
Updated: 2008-08-03
Packaged: 2017-11-09 15:07:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/456862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sira/pseuds/Sira, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ufp13/pseuds/ufp13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Picks up where the movie ends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Mess, New Mess, Messing Around

They were alone. The guys had suddenly disappeared to only God knew where; the NSA had left. It was only she and Bishop now. Bishop pocketed the black box chip he’d just shown her, his eyes never leaving hers, and Liz suddenly realised that they were standing close – too close for comfort.

She walked around him, throwing a look over her shoulder. “Well, it’s been fun, but I really think I should go home now.”

“Don’t go.” Bishop’s voice was warm, his eyes inviting, tempting – too tempting; which was a sure sign for her to leave.

She shook hear head. “I just wanna go home, grab some sleep, and clean my apartment in the morning. If I waited for you guys to come back and do it for me, I’ll still be waiting next year.”

She walked towards the door, not looking back, only stopping when she felt Bishop’s hand on her shoulder.

“Let me come with you. I can sleep on the couch and help you with the cleaning in the morning.”

Liz didn’t turn to him, but neither did she break the contact. “We’re not getting back together.”

He chuckled, and his hand vibrated against her shoulder. “I didn’t say that, did I?”

“No, but you’d like to, wouldn’t you?”

He didn’t answer but withdrew his hand. She missed the warmth and soft pressure in an instant, cursing herself for her weakness. How many times did she have to tell herself that falling for Martin Bishop was a bad idea?

Bishop passed her and opened the door, waiting for her to step through. Closing the door behind them, he followed her downstairs and led her to his car. She hesitated before getting in, knowing she should send him back, bid him goodbye and be gone –if possible for good.

She still hadn’t decided when he simply smiled at her, and not even twenty minutes later, they were standing in the middle of her apartment, eying the chaos they had left earlier that afternoon. Funny how only a few hours had actually passed, and yet it felt like an eternity.

She sighed. Sidestepping some cables and other equipment, she made her way toward her kitchen.

“I’m sorry, Liz.”

“For ravaging my apartment? You certainly did a good job with it.”

He followed her, leaning against the kitchen counter. Again, he stood too close, and she had to deny the impulse to bridge the small gap between them and do something she knew she shouldn’t.

“I haven’t said ‘thank you’, yet.”

She opened the refrigerator’s door and took out a carton of orange juice. She wanted to make a light quip but found herself answering sincerely instead. “I’m glad I was able to help you, and I’m glad that this whole… nightmare… is over now.” She turned and held up the juice to him. He nodded and moved to fetch two glasses from the shelf, holding them for her to pour them the juice. Putting the carton back, she took one of the glasses from him.

He raised his. “To new beginnings.”

“To… hopefully calmer times.”

They shared a smile, sipping their juice in silence. There were so many things Liz wanted to say, to ask, yet, nothing was forthcoming. Talking to Bishop was dangerous in the best of circumstances. He had always been one of her weaknesses, although she knew better than to let him come too close. Yet, each time he barged into her life again, she found herself struggling with her baser instincts – those that sent rational thoughts right out of the window.

“So… what are you going to do now?”

He shrugged. “I haven’t really thought about it, yet. This is all a bit sudden, almost surreal. I think I’ll only really believe it once I see Mother’s Winnebago myself and get confirmation that my record’s cleared for good.”  
“You didn’t think you’d ever see this day, did you?”

He laughed out, shaking his head in disbelief. “No, I didn’t. What about you, though? What are you going to do now?”

She took a sip of her juice, contemplating her answer. There were many possible answers running through her head. In fact, there were as many answers as there were possibilities for her to explore now, some of them involving the man in front of her, some of them not. The only question right now was which possibility it was she wanted to follow and which answer she wanted to give him.

“I’m going back to teach my children.” She scolded herself for a coward for picking up the simplest answer, none of her thoughts showing on her face, though.

He nodded, staring into his own glass for a moment, before his eyes went back up to hers, asking her a question he took his time to voice. “Why didn’t you ask for something out of this?” He shrugged. “Money for the school, money for yourself, some luxury you ever dreamed of.”

It seemed he was full of good questions today. She averted her eyes, weighing up the ramifications of each possible answer before deciding again on the most general one. Maybe he’d let her of the hook, because if he didn’t, she didn’t know how long she’d be able to refuse the constant pull towards him. If Bishop and she weren’t a case of ‘they could not live either with or without each other’ she didn’t know who was.

“I’m content with my life. Teaching those kids day after day and for once exactly knowing what the next day will bring is liberating in many a way. If I get back my life now, it’ll be enough.”

“Will it? Is there nothing you desire for yourself?”

She almost laughed out. There were a lot of things she desired. Not the least of which was the man right in front of her, but not everything that one desired was good for one.

“Right now, the only thing I desire is a hot shower and some sleep.”

He looked like he was about to say something but seemed to decide otherwise. “Do that. I’ll grab some blankets and prepare the couch.”

Liz nodded. “Be my guest. I won’t be long, and you can take a shower as well if you want.”

Something lit up in his eyes, and she knew in an instant that she’d said the wrong thing. Or was it actually the right thing? She’d be damned if she knew anymore.

“We could always have one together. Would save time, you know?”

She laughed out loud at that. “Yeah, in your dreams.” Walking up the stairs, she heard him rummaging downstairs, almost disappointed that he didn’t follow her. What the hell was wrong with her?

Liz hadn’t forgotten about the last time they had broken up, when he had come to her apartment after a five days absence – five days without even calling her once. She’d been out of her mind worrying about him. She’d called the guys time and again, always being assured that Bishop was, in fact, okay. Not a word of from Bishop himself, though. When he finally had been back, standing in the doorway of her apartment and telling her about this oh-so-important observation, she knew she couldn’t deal with it anymore. He hadn’t even understood what had her so agitated, hadn’t wanted to understand the worry she had felt. No, she couldn’t have lived like that any longer.

Liz yawned. She was really tired, the adrenaline rush of the day wearing off, so it was just a quick shower. She was back downstairs in less than ten minutes. Bishop was sitting on the couch, leaning back with eyes closed. She took the opportunity to study him, taking in the new lines on his face and the ones that had deepened since the time she’d last seen him. To her, his face was a book, one that she had read many a time before, but one that she could never tire of, like she would never be able to tire of him. There was something about him that drew her in, time and again.

“Are you going to stand there, watching me all night?” he asked, opening his eyes slowly.

“I just wondered if you had fallen asleep.”

“Sure.” He clearly didn’t believe her but she didn’t insist.

“Shower’s all yours.”

“Thanks.” He got up, brushing her arm in passing. “Sure you don’t wanna join me?”

Her skin tingled where he had touched her. “Pretty sure, and now go. I’ll see you in the morning.” She waited until he had disappeared upstairs before she let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. If she didn’t want this to become a long night, she should retreat to bed and call it a night. Bishop knew his way around her apartment.

In her bedroom, she slipped out of her robe and under the covers. Lying on her back and closing her eyes, she waited for sleep to come, but it eluded her. Instead, she found herself listening to the sound of the shower running and later on to the other noises in the bathroom which adjoined to her bedroom. When she heard the door of the bathroom opening, she waited to hear Bishop’s footsteps retreating downstairs but, instead, he made his way over to her bedroom, stopping in the doorframe.

Rolling over onto her right side, she switched on the light and opened her eyes: a mistake, as it revealed Bishop in nothing more than a towel around his hips, his hair still damp from the shower.

“What’s the matter, Bishop?”

“Just wanted to bid you a good night.” He made two steps into her direction, and her heart started to beat faster. Even after all this time, she knew he still had that effect on her.

“Thanks. Hope you’ll have one yourself.”

Another step towards her, and she knew this was when she should stop him.

“Liz.”

She shook her head. “Bishop, no.”

He closed the remaining distance, sitting down on the edge of the bed, his hand reaching out and coming to rest on her shoulder blade. He stroked it lightly, and she could neither suppress the slight tremor in her body nor the soft sigh escaping her lips.

“We should talk, Liz.”

There was conviction in his voice, and she realized she didn’t want to deny herself any longer, was too tired to send him away again. Deep in her heart, she knew that she could put off the inevitable for a while longer but not prevent it forever.

“I don’t think this is a good idea.”

His hand trailed lower, up and down her arm, caressing it lightly. Another shudder, and Liz had trouble fastening her gaze on his face and not letting it travel along his body. The body she remembered so well and that she wished to touch again. There… she admitted it; she wanted him, not that this knowledge did her any good.

“I was worried tonight. I couldn’t have born it if you had gotten hurt.” Bishop’s voice, as much as the look in his eyes, told her all about his feelings. His feelings for her.

“Nothing happened. We’re both here, safe and sound,” her voice was just above a mere whisper by now.

“Liz, I don’t want to lose you, and I don’t want to go back where we were. I need you. Not for the job. I need you.”

She sighed, looking down at the mattress, the fingers of her left hand starting to paint invisible circles on the sheets. “How often did we have this discussion before? You know how it ended. Each and every time.”

“But things have changed.”

She shook her head, looking up at him. “Have they? I don’t think so. Do you really think we’ve changed enough to make it work this time?”

He held her gaze, and she felt herself melt further and further. Her fingers were almost itching to touch him, to trace the fine lines on his face until she could trace the outline of his mouth, before finally leaning in to kiss him.

His eyes started to travel her face as well, ending on her lips, and she knew he was yearning for the connection as much as she was.

She let out another shaky breath while his hand travelled up her arm again, over her collarbone and her neck to her face, where he cupped her cheek.

“They have. I’m finally free to live a normal life again without having to wonder when they’ll come and get me. I’ll never have an average life. It would be a lie to even pretend I would want one, but now, for the first time in decades, I’m free to think of a future. And I don’t want to go into this future without you. I missed you, Liz. I missed you more than you’ll ever know. And I don’t want to repeat the mistakes of the past. I want to get on with my life, together with you.”

She knew he was telling the truth, at least at this moment in time. Life would come into their way again, it always did, but right now, right here, he spoke with a true conviction she was unable to resist.

“Are you going to kiss me, or talk the whole night?”

His face lit up, and finally, finally, he leaned in, brushing his lips to hers. Her eyes felt shut, and she revelled in the sensations; the tingle where his lips touched hers, and the surge of instant desire setting her nerve endings on fire. The kiss deepened. His tongue trailed along her lips, asking for entrance which she permitted willingly.

How much had she missed this, missed him. How much had she missed the way only he could make her feel. She shifted on the mattress to allow room for him, reaching up to his shoulder to drag him down with her.

He settled beside her so they lay face to face, just mere inches apart. For some moments, they just looked at each other, and Liz did what she had wanted to do earlier, reaching up, caressing the lines on his face with her fingertips. He endured her exploration, the gentle smile never leaving his face.

“You know,” she finally whispered. “If you want to stay… this has to go.” Her left hand trailed from his face down over his broad chest to his waist, hooking one finger under the towel that was still secured around his hips.

He chuckled quietly. “Well, I’m not the only one overdressed here.”

She could feel a smile blossoming on her face, and a small laugh escaped her. Closing her eyes, she savoured the feeling of pure happiness for a moment.

There had been other men in her life, some of them she had been really fond of, but none had ever touched her like Bishop did. Whatever he did or said, it resonated within her – good or bad. Her life had been quieter without him, downright uneventful at times. She started to ask herself if she had even lived at all, or just merely existed. How could she have denied herself for so long? She might pay for letting him in again, but right now, everything she ever wanted was within arms’ reach.

The finger still hooked into the towel tugged at the piece of cloth again. “I insist on the towel going first, though. I’ve got to know if it’ll be worth it to bare myself to the cold.”

The twinkle in his eyes was the only warning she had before he flipped them over, now hovering over her. Reaching for the towel, he tugged at it impatiently, throwing it to the ground when it finally came lose.

“You might be a lot of things, but definitely not cold, and that’s a promise.”

He leaned in to kiss her again, passionate and hard, leaving no doubt that he would make good on his promise.

Liz rejoiced in being pressed down into the mattress by his body, feeling his whole body against her. Slowly, he broke the connection of their lips and began to kiss his way over her cheek, along the jaw line, down her neck until he reached her shoulders, alternating short pecks, butterfly, and open-mouthed kisses.

He traced one collarbone with his tongue, a finger mirroring the motion on the other one. Slickly, he pushed the straps of her nightie off her shoulders. Moving further southward, his lips followed the line of her breast bone, his fingers the precursors, shoving the material down that obscured her soft skin.

When he had worked the nightgown down to her waist, his hands moved up again to trace the underside of her breasts, to worship the soft lines. He had raised his head in order to observe what his fingers were doing.

If she hadn’t enjoyed the sensations he evoked as much as she had, Liz most likely would have giggled at the boyish expression on Bishop’s face that spoke of clear fascination for the subject at hand.

He cupped her breasts, his thumbs flickering over her nipples, teasing them until they were hard, erect and aching for even more attention, which he gladly provided. Leaning down again, he captured one nipple with his lips and suckled at it while he rolled the other one between thumb and forefinger. Liz arched into his touch, clearly enjoying the ministrations, her moans additional proof of it.

Bishop couldn’t help but smile at her reaction. How he loved driving his little control freak out of her mind. Despite her sometimes downright cold exterior, Liz was one of the most sensual women he had ever met, and knowing that he was the cause of those sounds that escaped her throat involuntarily, the reason why her hands clung to the sheet beneath her, that he was the one who made her writhe cat-like as she did at the moment, was a great turn-on.

His unoccupied hand slid down again beneath the nightgown, grabbing her ass and pressing her pelvis against his erection. A groan formed in his throat as she started to rotate her lower body in a way that heightened his arousal even further. He desperately longed to feel her hot flesh against him, all of her flesh. The nightgown had to go. Now. Instantly, he set that decision into motion, much to Liz’s momentary dismay, for it involved the lost of his lips to her breasts.

Bishop slid down along her body, taking the material with him down her legs, until he kneeled at her feet. The view he had from there was breathtaking. So much creamy skin waiting for him to be rediscovered.

Getting impatient and a bit chilly – something he had promised her she would not feel – Liz braced herself on her forearms to see what he was up to – or not. Her movement interrupted his visual inventory of her body.

“You going to sit there all night, or do you still plan to make good on your promise and keep me warm?”

“Well, you look hot.” He accompanied his statement with a lustful sweep of his eyes over her form.

“Then make me feel it,” she challenged, spreading her legs by propping up one of them.

Torn between his plans of slowly worshipping every square inch of her and her challenge to take her in a frenzy, Bishop was unable to resist the call of the temptress before him. In a fast move, he leaned down to suck at her vulva. Liz squealed in surprise, but the sound transformed into one of pleasure quickly as he parted her lower lips with his tongue and sucked her clitoris. Trying to intensify the contact, her hips raised toward the source of the pleasure that had her whole body tingling. Nearer and nearer to the edge was she driven by his lapping tongue, but shortly before it would have send her into the sea of lustful abandon, he removed his mouth from her. The next moment, however, he pulled her onto his lap forcefully, entering her in a single motion. Liz cried out loud at the sudden invasion but wound her legs around his waist to push him in deeper. The volume of his groan was nothing short of her vocalisation. Being inside of her again, feeling her body wrapped around his, was amazing.

Her form was floating down his legs, her eyes closed, arms stretched out above her head. The view was spectacular, and Bishop’s hands were unable to resist the call of the tender skin of her stomach. Hungrily, they roamed over it, teasing the swell of her breasts in their wake. With care, he loosened the clasp of her legs and shifted them over his shoulders, then he bent down over her, penetrating her even further. Finally in a position to do so again, his mouth captured hers in a heated kiss.

His hips started a slow rhythm, which his tongue mirrored in her mouth. Where he picked up speed down there, though, he kept up the lazy mapping of her mouth. Her pelvis raised and fell antithetic to his, thereby intensifying the effect of his movements.

They moaned into the connection of lips, the sounds resonating in each other, as they both reached the fulfilling climax. She shuddered from pleasure beneath him; he rejoiced motionless in the sensation until he collapsed onto her.

Heavy breathing replaced the earlier moaning. Her hands stroked his back affectionately; his lips kissed her shoulder in answer – silent communication that said more than words could have expressed at this moment. They would have to talk if this was supposed to have a repeat performance, but, for now, wordlessness was it.

Slowly, and a bit reluctantly, Bishop parted from Liz and rolled besides her onto the mattress. Obviously, though, she didn’t want to let go of him either, for she cuddled into his side the instant he had settled, bringing the blanket with her and spreading it over both of them.

“You promised to keep me warm,” she smiled, her voice clouded by exhaustion and sleepiness.

“Yes, I did, and I will,” he answered softly and pressed her further toward him. “Good night, love.”

A humming sound that might have been a “You, too” was all the answer he received.

Content and happy for the first time in a long while, Bishop fell asleep with a smile on his lips and the woman who held his heart in his arms.

The next morning, Bishop awoke slowly. Even through closed eyes, he could tell that it was later than his usual get up time, and something else was amiss – he felt observed. His mind processed the information his other senses delivered: the sheets didn’t feel like his own, the smell confirmed that. Stop, the smell. Liz. His eyes shot open instantly to stare directly into her green ones. What a sight, first thing in the morning.

“Good morning,” she greeted him in a mere whisper while leaning down to breathe a kiss onto his lips.

“Yes, it is.” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her down, snuggling her up to him.

“Oh, no.” She grinned. “You promised to help cleaning up the mess you and the guys created during the last few days.” She disentangled herself from him. “Though I think,” she got up,“ it might be a good idea to start with the mess,” she made her way to the door, “ you created last night.” She winked and sauntered with swaying hips to the bathroom.

It took Bishop some seconds to realise what she had just said, or rather, what she had meant. Then he was out of the bed in the blink of an eye and raced to the bathroom where he could already hear the shower running.

“There you are. I thought you’d never come, and I had to clean up alone,” she teased as he entered the shower.

“I’m a man of my word, and I accompanied you here to help,” he replied while he placed his hands on her hips and crushed her to him, capturing her lips in a lazy kiss. “Wouldn’t want the lady to have any complaints.”

He grabbed the shower gel, poured some into his hands and started to slowly lather her body. His touch was a mixture of cleaning and caressing, arousing as he glided his hands over every point of her skin. Having started at her neck and shoulders, he made his way over her back, playfully counting ribs, squeezing her buttocks. Unable to reach any further down, he got to his knees behind her to tend to her legs and feet. Soaping downward on the backside and upward on the front, he leaned his forehead against her behind when he reached the apex of her legs, gently fondling her vulva.

Liz braced herself forward against the tiles to keep herself from swaying under his touch. She couldn’t suppress the moan, though, that passed her lips. Not that she had wanted to. It would be pointless anyway, for he knew very well what effect he had on her, and she, in turn, knew that hearing her sounds of lust turned him on. He loved driving her crazy and thereby driving himself crazy as well. Besides, if she had wanted a quiet, uneventful shower, she could have left the bed and taken one long before he had woken up. This was so much more fun, and if the erection that she felt sliding along her skin fleetingly when he got up again was any indication, he agreed with her on that.

His hands roamed now over her hips and stomach up to her breasts, cupping the soft flesh, lathering the underside before teasing her already hard nipples with his finger tips. She leaned her head back against his shoulder, granting his lips free access to her sensitive neck, and rubbed her ass shamelessly against his groin. His groaning mingled with her moans as it echoed from the walls of the shower. Giving up the pretence of cleaning for good, he pressed her against him, one hand over her sex, the other lying short beneath her breasts. He sucked hard at the crook of her neck, while stimulating himself against her buttocks. She moaned out loud and tried to intensify the contact between the heel of his hand and her clitoris by pushing her hips forward. Bishop, however, lightened the touch again, only to have Liz follow his hand with her hips. It started as a whimper, developed into frustrated begging, and ended with a growl and her hand shooting down from the tiles, grabbing his wrist and keeping it in place. She hadn’t only efficiently ended his teasing with this move, but also had brought her hips to a halt near his, giving him the opportunity to pull her to him again. Enveloped by his fingers on and in her intimate parts on one side, and his hardness pressed against her on the other side, Liz melted into his sensual embrace.

Bishop manoeuvred her against the tiles and nudged her legs apart with a knee. Propped on her forearms, head thrown back, eyes closed, lips parted, back bent forward, hips in close contact with his – her whole posture screamed for him to make the finale move, to finish what he had started, to join them.

The intensity with which she reacted to him had nearly blown him away the first time he had experienced it, and even now, it still amazed him. He loved it, loved how her body responded to his touch, how willingly she gave herself over to the sensations, to his reign over her pleasure. He knew that she didn’t trust lightly, and what made her trust him was still beyond him, but he wouldn’t question it, certainly not now. Now, when she was wax in his hands, making all those little sounds he adored so much. They increased in volume when he parted her lower lips with his fingers and slowly entered her from behind. Her wriggling hips encouraged him to deepen the penetration – an invitation he gladly accepted.

Hands on her hips to keep her in place, lips sucking on her shoulder, he pumped into her in a heterogeneous rhythm: soft and slow one moment, hard and speedy the next. It drove her crazy, drove her wild, and in result did the same to him, but he loved it, loved her, loved making love to her. With time, he increased the time span between the slow intervals until they ceased completely, and he pounded into her fast.

All coherent thought vanished from Liz’s mind, leaving only the sensations the man behind her, in her, evoked. Her whole body was trembling with pleasure, lust ran through her veins, propelling on her already heavily pounding heart.

As her inner walls started to contract around him, Bishop was already very near the blissful end and panting hard. Only moments after the first big wave of ecstasy washed over her, he followed suit with a load groan.

Weakness reigning in his own knees, he held her shivering form tightly in an embrace under the warm spray of the shower, the water carrying away their sweat.

Limp, she sagged against him, counting on him not to let her down – and he didn’t disappoint, rinsing their combined stickiness from both their bodies.

Having turned off the shower, he navigated them out of it and wrapped her in a towel before drying himself. When he had secured the towel around his hips and turned to meet her gaze, he found her smiling at him with happiness that he couldn’t help but reflect. She looked so soft and vulnerable yet serendipitous. His heart threatened to burst with affection, love, for this woman. One of his hands moved up to palm her face. Instantly, she leaned into his touch, her eyes holding his, communicating contentment. With gentleness, he brought his lips to hers, pouring all the love he felt into the kiss, and she responded in kind.

Not parting the connection of mouths, he loosed her towel and began to rub her dry as far as he could reach. Once they had to break the kiss under the pressure of lungs that longed for oxygen, he tended to the rest.

“Thank you,” she said sincerely yet gently.

“You are more then welcome. All part of the service, ma’am.” He winked at her. “You could have enjoyed this treatment yesterday, already.”

“Bishop!”

= End =


End file.
